Ascension of the Fallen
by Dismal-Spectre
Summary: More trouble unveils as Jack follow the grave desecrations mystery into the Hinterlands. And who is the mysterous witch who is helping Oogie?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Strange Visitor

The gutter was badly in need of a good cleaning. A sludge of rainwater, rotting leaves, and dirt choked the passage causing the metal shuttle to sag from the deadweight. Sadly, circumstances drew its attention elsewhere, leaving the gutter (as well as the rest of the house) in pitiful neglect. Hardly anyone would believe that the King of Halloween would live in such squalor.

Yet inside such an abode lived Jack Skellington, whose mind was on anything other than mundane tasks.

With a cup of Witch's Brew at hand and a copy of the Daily Scare propped against the toaster, Jack did his best to enjoy what little time he had to himself before the mid-morning mayhem began.

A slight pop signaled that the toast was done. Reaching a bony hand over to retrieve it, Jack caught a glimpse of the gift basket of foodstuffs. A skeletal grin crossed his features as he recalled the night before.

Yesterday's dance lesson was a success and he felt sure that Sally knew it as well. Painstaking practice had paid off and together they performed the foxtrot. It was hard to believe that only a fort night ago, all she could manage was the two-step.

Jack hummed happily as he studied her thank you letter, which was folded intricately in the form of a cat. He made a mental note to pick up a pound of crow giblets for her soup cabinet.

Only too soon his morning reverie was broken. His thoughts were interrupted by the shriek from the doorbell. Hesitantly, Jack got up and readied himself. The heavy oak door swung back to reveal a much disheveled Mayor struggling to close an orange and black umbrella which dwarfed the stout man.

"Horrid weather, Jack, just plain horrid," the Mayor grumbled as he stamped his boots. "I haven't seen a storm this bad since the Surrey Flame Salamanders forfeited the cup."

Jack nodded, taking the sopping mess of his guest's coat and hanging it unto the dead tree coat stand. "Worse this year than last, I believe. I do hope the rain won't ruin the pumpkin harvest."

With a cup of slime mold tea, the Mayor was back to his bubbly self. He wasted no time going into his ramble for the last minute details for the upcoming Halloween. Since there was only one week before celebrations, his stays became longer and his nerves shorter, much to Jack's chagrin.

However, Jack knew better than to not give the Mayor his full attention. After a fiasco in which Jack 'approved' one of Mayor's hare-brained ideas, the Pumpkin King wasn't taking any chances. Two cracked ribs, a concussion, and getting half-charbroiled from a raging horde of dragons would teach anyone to take the Mayor seriously.

The subjects varied from the usual decoration arrangements to the locations of where a scare would be designated. The latter being most important since an error could mean two monsters ending up fighting for the same spot or worse with them scaring the other instead of scaring children. As fun as Halloween was, humans knew nothing about the drudgery of planning for it.

"The Vampire Brothers are complaining how the low visibility will hurt their chances in winning the 'Most Drained Blood in a Single Evening Award'" said Mayor.

Jack sighed. "Remind them that their job is not to outdo the Acid Bath Leeches. Besides, how can I help it if the sky wants to rain?"

The Mayor paused as his owl-feather pen scribbled furiously. "I fear that this year there won't be as big as a turnout as before, Jack. Only the more dedicated trick-or-treaters will brave this storm," he said glumly.

Jack scowled in frustration and worry. All their plans would come to naught if this dreary trend continued. And by what? A little drizzle?

Sharing Jack's sentiment, Mayor's other face swiveled to the front, reflecting a more panic-stricken side of him. "You're not giving up on this Halloween are you?"

Shaking his head wistfully, the Pumpkin King sighed. "No Mayor. I wouldn't dream of it. After all, we shouldn't disappoint our fans right?"

"Right. I see that you're a bit exhausted, Jack. I'll call on you another time then?" With a nod, Mayor left the forlorn skeleton to his thoughts.

As the door clicked shut, Jack turned his head to glance at the spindly grandfather clock and noted that a good chuck of the morning was gone and noon was coming on fast. Still, there might be time to stop by the apocrathy shop before his meeting with Sally.

At the thought of Sally, Jack felt his spirits rise a bit. He needed to pour out his troubles and knew that she was always willing to hear them. Somehow she knew how to alleviate whatever bothered him.

He rose from the firm-backed electric chair, startling a dozing Zero from his slumber. The ghost dog let out a few yips as his master tucked a couple bottles of newt juice and a loaf of garlic bread into a basket.

"I won't be gone long, boy. Mind the house, all right?" Umbrella in hand, Jack eased the door jamb shut. The basket swung to-and-fro on his gangly arm as he took wide stride down the stairwell.

Past the gates he went and unto the cobblestone street where the four hulking forms of the dirge band members stood, huddling themselves against the sharp, biting autumn wind.

Jack caught the sax player's eye. A flick and two coins clattered into the almost empty tin-pan. The old zombie said nothing but nodded his thanks.

The streets were practically empty. Most of the town residents were inside, bunkering down and listening to the rain pound rhythmically against the windows. But Jack had a destination in mind and his steps became more brisk as he neared the entrance to Dr. Finkelstein's lab. Yet as he turned the corner, he ran into a small figure.

A yelp startled Jack and he halted as he felt a bump to his shin. Staring down he made out a tiny bundle of brown fur curled at his feet. He gasped and bent down quickly. "Oh my, I didn't see you there! Are you all right?"

A sharp stinging rap to the knuckles was the response.

"Get away. I don't need ya help."

To Jack's surprise, he found himself face to face with the last creature he expect to wander Halloween Town's streets. Hoofs, antlers, fur and all was a wizen little reindeer who glared back with indignation. A pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez glasses perched upon his short snout. About its neck was a red collar with silver bells. Judging by the crooked posture of its back, it seemed to be of advanced age.

At a loss of words, Jack stared. That is until the creature's shrill voice spoke.

"Well? Are ya just gonna stand there gawking at me or are ya gonna open the door?" It snapped, rapping its candy cane walking stick on the stones smartly.

Jack blinked but came to his senses. "Yes, of course." He reached out and lifted the latch, pushing the heavy iron-cast door agape.

Huffing, the deer passed Jack without another glance. Nevertheless, the skeleton followed, a whirlwind of questions churning in his mind. What was a reindeer doing in Halloween Town?

Unfortunately, the deer was aware of Jack's presence and turned, glowering. "Just what are ya doing stalkin' me? Have you no one else to scare?"

"I only want to know what business you have here."

"So what? Is there a crime for old bucks to visit a graveyard?" came the reply. "What if I decided to just keel over and let the worms eat me? What's it to you?"

The walking cane rose, pointing at Jack's chest. "Who do you think ya are? The police? I'll not hesistate to report this harassment to the Halloween King himself if you don't buzz off!"

Irritated, Jack snapped back. "Yeah, well you're talking to him!"

The elderly reindeer squinted hard at Jack. "Hah! You're just as Santa said you'd be; though he failed to mention that you're a half-wit."

Insulted, tired, and hungry, Jack was not in the best mood. And if looks can kill, the glare Jack gave the deer would have skinned the buck alive.

The deer pushed back a tuft of gray-brown fur from its eyes. "The name's Old Man Deer. Original, isn't it? Anyways, that fool of a Mayor told me to talk to you."

Jacked eyed the creature. "And you were searching for me at Finkelstein's Lab?"

"So sue me if all these houses all look alike. Ya people really should use color. My eyes aren't like they used to be."

"What are you here for?"

"Only seeking citizenship."

Jack stared incredulously. "Citizenship? Here? Why!"

Old Man Deer smirked. "I realized it was about time I retire. I couldn't stand living in Christmas Town any longer. I've grown sick and tired of seeing happy faces. So I figured a change of scenery would do me good."

Somehow Jack couldn't see the logic in it. Halloween Town was the last place for tourists and even more so for those looking for a new home.

Sighing, Jack replied, "Very well, I have the papers at my desk. Let's head on back and I'll get you all set up."

Exiting from the Doctor's property, Jack followed Old Man Deer and opened the gate. He gazed up longingly at the looming tower and saw the light pouring forth from the window, a beacon of warmth and hope in a cold and wretched world.

Reluctantly, he turned away, letting the door shut into place. As they passed the band, Jack dropped the basket of food unto the tin-plate.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: An Unlikely Alliance

As soon as he finished up the paperwork for Old Man Deer, the doorbell shrieked once again. Sure enough, it was Mayor. But it was his companion that intrigued Jack.

Everything, from the tip of the elf's crimson pointed cap to its long shoes, stood out from the gloomy surroundings of the Pumpkin Kings house. At hand, the Mayor fidgeted uneasily and bit his lip.

Jack didn't know what to expect. Two Christmas Town visitors in one day? What does it mean?

The red elf bowed deeply before Jack, its nose almost touching the carpet. "Santa sends his greetings, Mr. Skellingon."

Jack nodded. "Likewise. Though you caught me unexpectedly.'

"Forgive us for not informing you ahead of time. But a pressing matter arose and Santa is currently preoccupied," the elf piped. "And yet he says he seeks an audience with you."

Jack stared. "Santa wishes to see me?"

The elf nodded so abruptly that the puff-tip of his cap bounced madly. "Yes sir."

"JACK!" The Mayor spoke up. "You know that we're busy too! What with the plans for Halloween and all." He shook the blueprints for emphasis.

"I'm aware of it, Mayor. But I'm sure it can wait." Jack turned back to the elf. "Very well. I shall come with you to Christmas Town."

Jack landed softly unto the powdered snow and glanced about his surroundings. Up ahead were the glistening roofs of the sleepy town of Christmas. The warm aura cast by the myriad of electric lights embroidered the pastoral scenery. Even from afar the aroma of baked pies and cakes wafted under Jack's nose.

The Pumpkin King knew that he would never grow tired of the sight. Since the first time he laid eyes on Christmas, a part of him had awaken. Never had the world seem so new, so exciting. It was like walking into a faded memory and rediscovering it again.

The crunching of snow reminded him of the elf's presence and Jack turned to face his escort. "Have I done anything wrong that Sandy would want to see me about?"

"No sir. On the contrary." The elf said no more but began their trek from the snow-top hill toward the bustling town, leaving Jack to his own doubts.

Somehow the elf's words did not alleviate Jack's fears. Jack doubted that the Jolly Old Elf would want to associate with him more than need be. No, usually trouble ensued when the two met.

But it was too late to have second thoughts for all too soon they came to the festive door of St. Nick's house. Jack could only stand and wait apprehensively as the doorbell chimed its merry little ditty to 'Jingle Bells.' He tried to ignore the stares from passersby.

A column of light spilled from the doorway as a rounded face peeped out. A stout, elderly woman peered out at them, a warm smile spread on her lips, giving her the appearance of a kind grandmother.

"Yes, may I help you?"

Jack nodded in greeting. "Hello. I'm Jack. Jack Skelling…"

A squeal and in seconds Jack found himself in a bone crushing embrace. The old woman's cheek pressed against his.

"EEEEEEEE! Aren't you doll! My husband told me all about you, but he never mentioned how CUTE you are!"

Jack grinned sheepishly as the elf stared on with a dumbfounded gaze. "Really Mrs. Claws, I must speak with…"

"Oh dear. You're frozen to the bone! And how thin you are. Wait! I got just the thing to fatten you up." Still toting Jack effortlessly, Mrs. Claus carried a stunned Pumpkin King into the depths of the house.

Their little journey ended inside a quaint homely kitchen. Close by, a roaring fire blazed as a teakettle whistled cheerfully upon the stove. Mrs. Claus dumped Jack unceremoniously unto a high-backed cottage chair.

As the little old lady puttered by the soup kettle, Jack exchanged glances with the elf. "Is she always like this?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, pretty much. Once she even nursed an injured Yeti back to health."

Jack stared when a large bowl of noodle soup plopped down before him. Luckily, he was spared the ordeal when a familiar voice boomed from the living room.

"Cindy? Who do you have there?"

Cheeks red from the cold, Santa stomped in, clad in his snow-powdered crimson overcoat. He rubbed his hands briskly and gave Jack a smile. "Well, I see that my wife has taken a fancy to you." He sniffed as he eyed the noodle soup hungrily. "Smells great, dear. Mind if I have a bite?"

As Mrs. Claus prepared the cinnamon tea, Santa sat himself across from Jack. "I apologize for being late. I had to deal with a wolf back in the reindeer pen. I hope you didn't have to wait long."

Jack shook his head. "Not at all. I'm just surprised to be here really."

"I know that you're busy, what with Halloween coming up," Santa continued. "So I'll be quick. I know we don't exactly see eye to eye on certain things but after last year, I have no doubts. You've proven to me that you are of good character."

Jack frowned puzzled and curious of where this was leading to. Yet the worry he felt earlier dissipated at the mention of last Christmas. He had done the impossible. He stood up to the ten story tall Oogie and dethroned the so called "Seven Holidays King." Fortunately, it ended with Sandy and him parting ways on good terms.

"What I mean to say is," Santa continued. "Christmas Town is indebted to you and wishes to express its thanks by extending its friendship to you and the denizens of Halloween Town."

Jack cocked a brow. "Sandy?"

Santa beamed as he stood and offered his tiny hand to Jack. "As of this day Jack, our towns are allies. As with any alliance, trade will be opened to you and visitors will be welcomed. And of course, if anything should happen, we will come to your aid."

A wide grin crossed Jack's face. "Really? Wow! I don't know what to say!" he said quickly, hardly able to control himself. It took a second before he saw Santa's hand. He took it, giving the old elf a hearty hand-shake which nearly shook Santa's whole body.

"Why this is marvelous news!" Jack bubbled. "The best I've heard all morning!"

Santa pushed his cap from his eyes. "Of course, it's not official yet. We must tell our people at town meeting. And I'm afraid I've held you too long. After all, you do have only a week left before Halloween as I remember."

Jack's eyes widened. "You're right! Mayor will hang himself on the gallows if I don't get back." He got up quickly, knocking over his chair. "Give Christmas Town my warmest regards, Sandy," Jack called as he disappeared around the threshold.

Truth be told, the town residents took the news differently. The witches were ecstatic of the possibilities open trade with Christmas Town would bring. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, Jack thought, and he made a mental note to set up trade regulations as soon as possible.

As for the others, some received it with mixed feelings, not knowing what to expect from the alliance or whether it worked at all.

Gills, the scaly mermaid, rose a webbed hand. "Not that I want to dim your spirits, Jack, but are you sure both sides would gain much from this? Christmas and Halloween don't exactly go together, like you can't mix water and…and…"

"Snot soup," quipped Cyclops. Behind the creature, the Vampire Brothers nodded in agreement.

Jack knew they were thinking about his little holiday fiasco the year before. Frankly, he didn't need the reminder. He frowned, bothered that some residents still held it against him.

"I'm sure," Jack replied firmly, tapping his long spindly fingers on the podium. "All I expect from everyone is respect for anyone visiting our town. That means not tricks, or 'treats,' unless they are okay with it. We want to give them a good impression of Halloween Town."

The town hall was filled with murmurs at this. Among them, Sally watched from her post on the hanging tree. Her face unreadable from the stage where Jack stood. Mayor pounded the gavel, bringing the session back to order.

The meeting continued with the usual thrills and chills planning. By the end, Jack was relieved that everyone's minds were preoccupied with Halloween instead.

As the last of the town inhabitants filed out, Jack caught Sally's eye and gave her a quick smile. He nearly flew from the stage to her side.

"I'm sorry I didn't call last night. Something came up and…"

"It's all right," Sally reassured him. "I practiced by myself. I'll be ready then."

Sighing in relief, Jack gave her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder. "I knew you could do it. Soon we'll show the rest of Halloween Town as well."

Sally smiled. "Speaking of which, are you inviting Santa over as well? I'm sure he'll enjoy the celebrations."

"An excellent idea, Sally!" Jack replied. "And here I thought you would say this whole alliance thing was a bad idea. You haven't had any of those visions of yours, did you?" he asked cautiously.

Shaking her head, she answered. "Not since that night last year. Don't worry, Jack. I'm sure this whole alliance thing would work out. After all, it would bring both our worlds closer to understanding the other."

"I never thought of that. We'll let Fate weave tomorrow, but as for now…" He gripped her delicate hands tightly. "Let's continue those lessons shall we?"

That night, not a single wisp of fog touched the land. Only the golden orb hung over the town. And if anyone looked in the direction of the cemetery, they would see two forms alit by the heavenly illumination, moving in a slow, intricate dance.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch.3: Even the Best Laid Plans

One look at the bill made Jack realize that the Household Leech Brothers sucked more than just blood. He sighed, tossing the invoice unto the rest of the 'to be paid' stack on his desk. It was only 4 months ago that he paid out for foundation repairs and yet there was no end in sight to the list of broken down items. And yet for Jack Skellington, these were the least of his headaches. All about town, decors were put up only to be taken down again because of missing ornaments. Conflicts with scheduling ate up his time with Sally, who had to rely on herself to learn the last steps to dancing.

Mayor had tried to reassure him that it was only natural he felt that way. After all, it was not everyday Halloween Town turned 500 and so Jack would never be content with everything. Still the Pumpkin King couldn't help it, especially since Sandy had accepted the invitation. Everything had to be PERFECT.

So distracted he was that he barely noticed what he read in the Daily Scare. News coverage over the upcoming Autumn Ball and Sandy's arrival dominated the front page. All other local reports, like broom flying regulations and a break in at the Museum of History and Unnatural Sciences, were shunted into the lower corner margins.

Wolfing down his burnt toast and black coffee, Jack sped through his usual morning rituals and rushed for the Town Hall. If there were any last minute details he wanted to have the final say. Mayor was already at the scene looking quite frantic until he spotted Jack.

"Jack! O, Jack!" The stout man called as he waved his clipboard. "Witch Maple called in sick and says she can't finish the jack o' lantern centerpieces. Harlequin Demon reported that the fake ooze is still a bit runny. And Clown requests that he be allowed to use explosive balloons."

Jack nodded, ducking under an incoming rack of barbequed rats. "Then give the assignment to Witch Birch, she knows what to do. Tell Harlequin to add cornstarch. As for Clown, my answer is still no."

Scribbling madly, Mayor fought to keep up after Jack's wide strides. Yet Jack showed no signs of slowing down. He passed every stand, looking at everything with a scrutinizing eye.

All around them the town residents bustled about. Ghosts strung up the remaining orange and black streamers. The dirge band's instruments clunked out a melancholy tune. Cauldrons churned, casting an eerie green light upon the witches' harsh features. Everyone was in on the preparations…well almost everyone.

Peeping from behind a cart, Shock ducked as Jack's lithe frame strode by. She turned to her two cohorts and sneered. "Grown ups are so stupid. So what if the town is 500 years old? Big deal!"  
Lock rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and who'd want to go to some lame ball anyway? Besides, all they do is dance and kiss all night."

"It's not like were invited, so it doesn't matter anyway," Barrel mumbled around a lollypop.

The witchling smirked at this. "Then we might as well invite ourselves. After all, someone's gotta show the grown ups what fun is right?"

"Right" chorused Lock and Barrel. The three snickered sinisterly.

Lock eyed the long broom that nestled on Shock's shoulder. "You're not bringing that thing along are you?" he asked in disbelief.

The other shot back a haughty look. "So what if I'm?" Removing the broom from its place, Shock caressed the smooth red mahogany surface. The word 'Zephyr' was emblazoned in gold on the handle.

Barrel stared enviously at, reaching out and fingering the straight bristles of the tail, only to draw back his hand when Shock swatted it away. "Man, what I wouldn't give to own one of those," he said in awe. "I can't believe your Aunt Gertrude would part with it."

"Well, she didn't just hand it to me, dummy," Shock quipped. "Let's say I'm borrowing it for a while."

Lock scoffed. "You can't even fly it, Shock. It's too big for you!"

"Is not!" Shock stuck her tongue at him. "If I can fly my training broom, then this one will be easy. It can't be all that different."

"Yeah right."

Glaring at him indignantly, Shock shoved the broom under her and swung one leg over the side.

"Shock, what are ya doing?" Barrel exclaimed.

The broom quivered slightly but Shock paid no mind to it. "Showing you idiots that I can do this." Frowning, she gripped tight to the handle and kicked off. A second later and she was far above their astonished faces. A few loops and even Lock had to admit that Shock had the control.

Such a spectacle did not go unheeded. Some gargoyles stopped their work and stared while some witches just shook their heads and waggled their tongues. Yet not everyone knew what was happening. Far below, Jack was too engrossed in examining some of the bakery goods.  
Rubbing a bony finger under his chin, Jack frowned as he examined the samples of caramel apples Sally handed to him. Taking a bite, he chewed slowly and smiled in delight. "Sally, you've really outdone yourself. Is that cinnamon I taste?"

His rag doll sweetheart nodded. "I added a dash to the caramel syrup. I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? I love it! Would you care to make more for the party?"

"Of…of course Jack." Sally blushed, flattered that Jack put so much confidence in her. Sewing was one thing, but cooking another. Sewing came naturally for her, but the act of putting effort into cooking was more worthwhile.

"Jack!" Mayor called as he stumbled over a fake skeleton decoration. His face for once was on the happier side. "The stone masons finished the statue. And I must say, they did a horrific job!"

Jack grinned. "Excellent! Let's take a look shall we?"

The residential area square buzzed with anticipation, the inhabitants squeezed into the narrow streets, so that transverse through them was almost impossible. Jack, Sally, and Mayor had to get out of the hearse and set out on foot. Only with much pushing and foot-stepping were they able to make it to the stage, which stood in front of a massive object covered in a white tarp.

"They're ready for the unveiling, Jack." Mayor thumped Jack on the back (or though rather, for he could only reach so high).

With one step, Jack vaulted unto the raised platform. He spread his arms in welcome. The sound of a thousand clapping hands, paws, flippers, hooves, and tentacles resounded in response.

"Thank you for coming everyone!" Jack said as the noise died down. "I'd like to give our greatest thanks to those made this all possible: the Lycan Masonry, the Witches Works, Dr. Finkelstein, and all those who funded the project." Again there was applause then silence as Jack continued.

"As you know, Halloween Town was not the grand place you see before you today. Not at all. In the 16th century, our founders came here for various reasons, persecution being one of them. Determined to find a haven for themselves, they broke ground here, establishing a colony of thatched housing.

"But it was not easy. Many difficulties hampered their efforts, for they had to battle nature itself. The hard soil refused to yield anything. The spring water was so acidic that many died from poisoning. Scorpions and other deadly creatures plagued the alleyways. And yet our ancestors proved resourceful.  
"Only when one clever ghoul by the name of Oldof the Odiferous found a way to cultivate pumpkins did the town manage to have a stable source of food. He added minerals to the water, which gave it a green hue but nevertheless made it drinkable. These and other innovations made it possible for our ancestors to survive and thrive.

"However, the village still faced adversity from the native population. Walls and towers were built to drive the hordes of various malevolent creatures. As the village grew and needed more land, the greater the number of skirmishes occurred until a full scaled ensued. The fighting lasted centuries until fate became merciful to us.

"Now there are a few of you today who remember that day when a storm brought a stranger to our gates. I'm talking about no one other than the great Jack Pumpkinhead, the first Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, my predecessor and mentor.

"He was a wise and just ruler. And even as prominent a character he was, he was always good to those below him. Many came seeking for his advice. Most importantly, he gave Halloween Town a vision; a vision that called for better times. Through his efforts, he purged the city of it evils. He renovated the sanitation system, directed the construction of more stable and elegant buildings, and set up the prestigious University of Halloween Town, or U of H as known by those who loved the alma mater dearly. Lastly, he defeated and banished the monsters that had threatened the town from of old.

And with his passing we hold his memory more dear, and I too especially. I'm honored to have known him for he had inspired me, inspired us all, to make this town our own. Halloween Town owes much to this esteemed figure so it's only fitting that commemorate the anniversary of the founding of this town with a memorial built in dedication of the man who had done much for it."

With a slight bow, Jack gripped the tassel. A quick yank and the heavy tarp fell, revealing its precious cargo.

The audience gasped in admiration as the form of Jack Pumpkinhead towered above them. The limbs so masterfully crafted were held in a way that brought life to the statue, gracefully arched in a fluid dance. The coat tails seemed to trail with the movement. Yet it was the head that Jack was most impressed by. Chiseled into the granite pumpkin was the smile he remembered so well, a smile that radiated mirth and mischief. Jack only hoped that the Pumpkin King costume he wore every Halloween did justice to his one time mentor.

Suddenly from the crowds rose a cry as a small figure in the air darted from behind the apartment complex. Its rider struggled to dodge the hanging lingerie. Shock pursed her lips as she narrowly avoided a fire escape. Her joyride had more than proven that she was adept at handling the broom and yet she didn't feel like coming down just yet. The thrill of freedom in the air coupled with the urge to show off kept her going. On entering the residential area, Shock stared in confusion at the multitude below her. So intent on finding out what was happening that she failed to watch where she was going. It was a cry from below that startled her to her senses.

"Look out!" Jack shouted.

Shock turned just in time. Screaming, she gripped the handle, veering off from a collision course with the statue's head. A few twigs in the broom's tail snapped as they grazed the unyielding stony fingers. The broom spun wildly and Shock's vision was blocked as her hat fell to her eyes. Growling in frustration, Shock shoved the brim back just as the festival banners rushed up at her. Then the world tumbled as the witchling, broom and all, ended up tangled in the veil of fabric. The rungs gave into the weight and the entire mess tore and fell into a crumpled heap on the cobblestones.

Jack and Sally rushed anxiously over. With much effort, they pried Shock from her sheet prison. Seeing that she was in no way injured, Jack heaved a sigh of relief and a look of annoyance replaced his worried one. "Shock, what are you doing? This is no way for children to play."

Head still spinning, Shock stared as her vision cleared and she found herself face to face with a scowling Jack Skellington. Beside him, Sally looked on curiously. Shock gave a weak smile. "Eh, heh. Just playing a trick, Jack." With that she dashed away disappearing into the crowds.

If Jack had eyes he would have rolled them. Instead he shook his head. "Honestly. I ought to talk to their guardians," he muttered.

"It's okay, Jack," Sally said. "They're only children after all. It's their nature to get into trouble."

"Normal children you mean. At their age, I'd never…"

"Jack!" The two turned as the Hanging Tree approached them. Its five skeletal men swayed ever so slightly as it nodded in greeting.

Jack blinked. "Oh, hello Hanging Tree. That ointment the witches gave you must be working. That root fungus finally cleared up I see," he said pleasantly.

"Shh. Don't mention it here, Jack. No one talks about embarrassing things like this in public you know."

"Right. What can I do for you?"

The gnarled old tree leaned forward. "It's about the cemetery. As you know, I often found it a relaxing place to stroll through. As of late, however, I couldn't help noticing that some of the headstones were knocked over and the graves dug up."

Jack frowned. "Desecration," he answered darkly. "We hadn't had a case of it since people used tombstones as benches." He nodded at the Hanging Tree. "Thank you, I'll look into it."

"Should I come along, Jack?" inquired Sally.

He shook his head. "It's not necessary. It'll be a quick check and I'd rather you stay and help prepare for the ball. Besides," he said with a smile. "I think you'll need time to finish that dance dress you're working on."

Sally stared in amazement. "Why, how did you know?"

He gave her a wink. "News travels fast in Halloween Town, especially among gossiping witch shopkeepers." He gave her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder. "Whatever you have in mind, I'll look forward to it."

Passing through the gates, Jack allowed himself to relax. His feet carried him away from the town, treading on a path he knew so well. What was that saying? Nature made a man whole again, he remembered. Indeed it was a balm for his tortured soul. His anxieties were siphoned away by the brisk fall air. His mind became clear as the crisp autumn sky. 

And that was what bothered him very much. Stress was normal, especially with the critical day coming up. But no, it was something else that gnawed at him. As of late he was always dissatisfied.

Although he often confided in Sally about his inner demons, he felt that this was one he shouldn't share with her. No, he would never dare burden her this way. The last time he felt like this she feared that he would leave again. Jack kept these thoughts to himself and the longing persisted until his walks became longer and more frequent. Many nights he found himself gazing as if in search for something yet he knew not what it was.

It was the same emptiness he had felt the night three years ago. A restlessness, an urging that tormented him to the brink of his sanity. For what he did not know. It was not as if he was bored of Halloween, on the contrary. And yet that was what aggravated Jack the most, not knowing the cause of his impatience.

He sighed and shoved the unpleasant thoughts away, welcoming the indifference of nature. He had work to do and a party to plan for. Whatever the problem was in the graveyard must be dealt with and quickly.

Going through the pet cemetery, Jack spotted a dim specter emerging from a grave, yipping madly and pursuing him. It's jack o' lantern nose cast a warm orange glow on Jack's solemn features.

"Hello, Zero," Jack smiled weakly, earning a wag from the ghostly canine's non-existent tail.

With the help of Zero, Jack found the indicated spot quickly. Sure enough, the headstone had been roughly handled and thrown carelessly aside. A gapping hole yawned before him framed with unearthed dirt clods. All around the site bones were strewn about, their bleached white surfaces protruded from the soil.

Looking at the plaque Jack noted the grave belong to Witch Oak, who had passed away 4 months ago from over gorging of vulture gullets, which was fatal when consumed in large quantities. With such a short passage of time, the bones should not be this clean and yet here they were otherwise.

Perhaps the vultures got to them, reasoned Jack, which left him with the dilemma of what motive was for the cruel treatment of her remains. Then his attention was drawn to Zero's barking. He ran up the slope to find a ghastly sight at the top. Dozens of graves were exposed; the bones of their owners lie scattered so that it was near impossible to recognize which belong to a certain corpse. The stench was overpowering that Jack was thankful he lacked a nose. More often than not the bones were picked clean like Oak's.

Suddenly Zero began to bark so violently that it started Jack. The ghost dog took off, circling a gnarled old willow, snarling and snapping at an unseen object. Behind the tree, a fleeting form huddled in the shadows.

Jack frowned and approached the tree slowly, straining to see. His motions however spooked the creature so that it darted out in plain sight. Before Jack, a blueish green imp squatted, staring back with its yellowed eyes. Its large bat-like ears twitched anxiously. Clenched between its jaws was a thin arm bone. Their gazes met for a second before the imp bared its teeth and hissed. Then the tiny critter darted into a crevice in a rock outcrop.

Jack blinked in disbelief. "Jitters," he murmured. The creatures themselves were relatively harmless, being scavengers. Nevertheless they were pests that were banished from the realm long ago by Jack Pumpkinhead due to their destructive feeding behavior. Yet it was not these odd critters that worried Jack, rather what their presence meant. Usually their appearance was an omen of death. They travel in groups, following and stealing food from larger and more dangerous hunters.

The question was, what were they doing in Halloween Town?


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4: Complications

"Hmm. That is strange. Very strange indeed."

Dr. Finkelstein frowned, scratching his brain as he did so. "Are you quite certain they were Jitters?"

Jack crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. "I'm sure, Doctor. They were responsible for the damage to the graves. But you and I know that a pest problem is the least of our worries."

The older man pursed his odd lips grimly. What Jack spoke was true. Though a nuisance, Jitters posed no threat. However it was common to find them following larger, more deadly creatures. Last time Jitters occupied Halloween town giant scorpions ravaged the outskirts, claiming a number of inhabitants. The terrible event had been called the Night of Mourning for the lost was great. Only until Jack decimated the nesting colony of the creatures was order returned.

"Jack, you know that you may have to withdraw your invitation to Santa. It's too risky otherwise."

The Pumpkin King eye sockets widen at this. Of course. How could he forget? The entire graveyard dilemma had driven it clear from his mind. Jack sighed in disappointment, realizing that the Doctor was right. He would never dare endanger Sandy again, not with the alliance still in its infancy. Unless he resolved the situation quickly, Jack could see no other alternative.

The laboratory doorbell sounded and the Doctor scowled. "O God, not him again." His wheelchair clicked and whirled as he turned it about. A look of contempt appeared on his face.

Puzzled by the Doctor's reaction, Jack decided to invite the guest in and spare his friend the ordeal. Swinging back the heavy metal door, Jack stared out to find an unpleasant surprise. Glaring back at him was no one other than Old Man Deer himself. His wizen little face was set with a scowl that so resembled the good Doctor that Jack would have smiled had the deer not opened his mouth.

"Will you stop FOLLOWING me around? And what are you doing standing there? Do you want me to catch a death of cold?" the little creature snapped.

Jack frowned but let him pass. Twice he ran into this unsavory character. Just what business did he have with the Doctor? He didn't have to inquire for Finkelstein satisfied his curiosity as soon as the offensive buck ascended the stairwell, far from hearing range.

"Stubborn fool," gripped the Doctor. "Acting all high and mighty with his erudite education." He eyed Jack. "He's been coming here frequently to look through the town documents in my archives, claiming he was doing a research assignment."

"Really? How intriguing," Jack retorted. "What sort of research?"

The other snorted in disgust. "Some ridiculous theory I wager. Ever since he moved into town, I took the liberty of checking up on his background. According to the Christmas Town locals he's some hare-brained historian. But I'd say he's more of some kind of paranoid freak. All he ever prattles on about is folklores and myths, like Bigfoot and such."

"Interesting," Jack replied. Somehow he couldn't see the stern reindeer as the type to waste his time on trivial matters. He glanced up as the hall grandfather clock chimed the afternoon hour, its stuffed vulture cackling as it sprang from a little door. "I do hope Mayor can handle the rest of the details for the ball. I left specific instructions, but in case, would you mind taking over for me till I come back from the graveyard?"

The Doctor was silent, mulling it over. "Very well," he said reluctantly. I see that you want to resolve this quickly especially with Halloween coming up. And since we're sure what company these Jitters bring, shall I assemble a patrol?"

As serious as the matter was, Jack was reluctant to attract so much attention to it. True they needed to be prepare for any situation, and yet he did not want panic to erupt among the townsfolk. No, it was better they remain blissfully ignorant until it was necessary otherwise. He nodded.

"Gather a small sentry force to watch the outskirts for any danger. And assemble a detail to stock on weapons. If anything should happen while I'm gone, I want the town to be at least ready," he said firmly.

"Right," Finkelstein replied. He turned his chair just as Jack spoke again.

"Oh and Doctor? Please try to keep this quiet for as long as possible. Just let the town residents continue the preparations."

His old friend smirked, glad that Jack was being sensible. But then he had to be after Oogie's unexpected return. Even with the threat of doom hanging like a guillotine blade, Jack still wanted to keep things as normal as possible.

"I shall inform Santa of the change of events," the Doctor answered. "But I'll leave out the major details."

Jack smiled in gratitude. "Thank you. Till then, be careful."

"Careful? YOU be careful."

On leaving the Doctor's manor, Jack had the fortune to run into Sally on the doorstep. He smiled in great joy as he found himself in her presence. He eyed the odd-shaped bundle under her arm. "Hello Sally, I see something special. Is it for me?" he asked playfully.

The rag doll smiled coyly. "Maybe, Jack. But don't expect me to spoil the surprise."

"Now that would be a shame, wouldn't it? But I bet it has to do with the ball, right? He winked.

"Speaking of which, Mayor is looking for you. He's about to call out another search party again."

At that, Jack remembered his task at hand. The smile on his face faded and he become more solemn. He sighed. "I'm afraid the Mayor will have to settle for the Doctor's consultation. I must get back to the graveyard. Something has happened and I need to find out what." He shared with her the events of his morning.

Sally stared at him in shock. "Jitters? The Doctor mentioned them once before when I asked what one of his preserved specimens was. Oh Jack, this is terrible!"

Jack gave her a sympathetic look and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. If the fates allow it, I will get to the bottom of this. You just get that dress ready. We can't have you looking shabby next to my refined tux, you know."

She shook her head in disbelief. "How can you talk so lightly about this? The ball could be canceled."

"There will be a ball, you can count on that," he said sternly. "Besides, you still owe me a dance after all those lessons. Don't think I haven't forgotten." He smirked.

So they parted, one confident and the other anxious. Unknown to them, they were watched by three sets of eyes from around the tower.

"Did you hear that?" Shock inquired.

Lock scoffed. "So? It those Jitter things are as harmless as they say, Jack will wipe them out soon enough." This earned him a smack to the head. "OW!"

"Stupid. Weren't you paying attention in history class? Witch Elm says that Jitters are sign of danger. Wherever they are, you can be sure an invasion of terrible monsters is coming."

Barrel scratched his head. "So does this mean that Trick-or-Treating will be cancelled because of this?"

The three stared at each other as the thought sunk in. Halloween cancelled? No candy? No pranks? Not without a fight!

"We have a Code Red," Shock announced. "We must take battle positions. Those grown ups can't even fight against Oogie's ghost and skeletons last year. It depends on us to save Halloween!"

"Our playhouse can be our base of operations," offered Barrel.

"It's always been our base, dummy," Lock shot back.

Shock waved a hand. "Wait. Barrel's got a point. We can turn the tree house into a fortress. And we have an arsenal that's way much better than what those grown ups got. I bet they still use pitchforks and torches."

She removed her broom from her shoulder and she placed it so that it hovered a foot above the ground. "Hop on!"

Lock widened his eyes. "NO WAY! After that little stunt you pulled back in the residential square, I'm not getting on that stick. You'll probably run us into the playhouse or something."

Shock glowered darkly at him. "Fine. If you want to walk, then be my guest." As she mounted, Barrel jumped on excitedly, pleased at getting a chance to ride the skies. In a rush of wind, the Zephyr took off, leaving behind a very indignant Lock.

On returning to the cemetery, Jack found that Zero was not in his grave. This was most unfortunate for him, since he needed his nose to track the elusive Jitters who loved to hide in the many cracks and narrows.

Pacing along side a few graves, Jack studied the fine set of clawed footprints that jumbled together where the Jitters fought over for the best pieces of flesh. However, they were of little help since they were meaningless in direction and did not seemed very fresh.

But then he found a tombstone that was quite recently overturned. The brambles that covered its surface still oozed with a milky resin from their broken ends. A look into the grave indicated that the culprits had not finished their feast. Within the dark chasm, many bones lay undisturbed, some with decayed flesh still hanging limply upon them. Chunks were torn from it by jagged bites, but otherwise the body was intact. They couldn't have gone too far, Jack figured.

Standing before the grave, Jack bowed his head in respect, saying, "I apologize, but permit me to do this so that I may avenge you and the others whose peace was violated." Then plunging a bony hand into the pit, Jack extracted a large femur that had a great deal of putrid maggot-infested meat upon it. Gently he eased it unto the sandy ground, exposing it to the light of day that had been so long denied it.

Then running, Jack scaled over the stonewall and hid. For minutes he heard nothing, only the cawing of the raven perched in a distant tree. He kept absolutely still. Only until his bones started aching from the wait was he rewarded for his patience. He heard a shrill chattering from inside the hallow of a tree. Then more, and the sound intensified until it became a deafening pitch.

Jack sprang up, startling the lot of Jitters who had gathered by the bait. With a sharp flourish of his hand, Jack snared them with the Soul Robber, which had transformed into a sticky, gooey net, successfully ensnaring the hapless creatures. The Jitters screeched and struggled, but to no avail the net held. They gnashed their teeth vehemently and glared at Jack with their cold yellow eyes.

The Pumpkin King smiled, satisfied that his plan had worked. Slowly he reeled them in. Placing a foot on his captives, Jack gave the Jitters his most gruesome grin, a cold, almost cruel display of his serrated teeth.

"I see you boys are having a good time," he said. "Which is all well and good..." His expression darkened. "But not at the expense of the dead. Now as I recall, Pumpkinhead explicitly stated that you are forbidden to enter our lands. So why have you disobeyed his edict?"

The Jitters hissed a string of profane words. "Pumpkinhead banished us. Only him we fear. You we do not. We never bow to you," one spoke up.

Jack scowled, and then jerked the cord hard, causing many of the Jitters to squeal with surprise. "Wrong. You are mistaken to think that I am to be given any less respect. Now answer me. What sort of trouble did you bring this time?"

"She promised us big feast," came the reply, which was echoed among them so that it became a chant.

Narrowing his sockets, Jack nodded. "Go on. Who is this 'she'?"

"One of great power," the speaking Jitter said. Its slit pupils dilated, quivering with excitement. "She will bring end. End to all!" the imp said in its raspy voice. It spoke with such confidence that shivers ran down Jack's spine.

As the Jitters shifted, Jack caught sight of a silver glimmer of light stuck on one of the critter's clawed paws. Bending over, he snatched what he found to be a tuft of coarse gray fur. It shone with a bright yet gentle light, as if it held the autumn moonlight.

Jack frowned. "What's this? Narsim fur?" Something was wrong, very wrong. The only way a Jitter would be in possession of such a rare item would be to scavenge it off a carcass or get into a scrap with a Narsim (which was highly unlikely). Which would mean...

Fearing the worst, Jack quickly relinquished his hold over the Jitters, who scampered away and disappeared into the niches from which they came. They had no further use.

He tore down the road in the direction of Spiral Hill. Something had happened, he was sure of it. Few creatures possess the strength and intellect to take down a Narsim, who were renowned for their cleverness and fighting capabilities. His greatest concern was what being awaited him in the Hinterlands. At that thought Jack felt deeply frustrated. Only a while ago he was worried over a little drizzle ruining his holiday. How very foolish it seemed now!

With precision, Shock landed softly and dismounted. Behind her Barrel glanced about, staring out at the vast landscape. "I thought Lock would be close behind," he said. "He would at least run or something."

Shock scoffed. "Who cares? He'll catch up soon enough. Then he'll be sorry for making fun of my flying."

The two took the metal cage lift, which slowly ascended into their favorite hangout. The tree house wasn't much, Shock thought, but it was like a second home and a great place to scheme. For Shock's part, she was glad to have a place to run to when her Aunt Birch had her weekly Witch Works friends came over. How Shock hated being at the beck and call of every one of those stuck up adults and their annoying black cats. And whenever she complained against her servitude, her aunt would remind her that it was only right that she earn her stay and be grateful that she wasn't put up in the orphanage. Screw the old bat, Shock scowled. Often times she wondered if being an orphan was any different from the life she led now. Shock's thoughts were interrupted when a small lurch signaled the end of the ride.

"I say we go through Lock's stuff till he gets here." Barrel snickered as they exited the cage. "I think he's hoarding candy from us."

"Yeah, I heard him munching on something the other night. When I get my hands on him, I'll..."

Whatever Shock planned to do to her cohort she never finished. For the two of them halted in their tracks at the sight of Lock standing in the middle of the dim playroom. Only a weak candle was the only source of light, which cast a harsh glow upon Lock's face.

"Took you long enough idiot," Shock started when she realized that Lock seemed to not notice she was there. She frowned and took a closer look. Lock's face was contorted in a look of absolute terror. His eyes stared unseeing and his lip trembled. His breath came in gasps as if he was choking underwater.

Shock and Barrel stared, their eyes widen as they felt a presence other than themselves around them. From behind Lock a looming shadow emerged standing over as if ready to engulf the boy into its depths. Fluorescent yellow light glowed from the figure's eyes and wide sinister smile. It was the face that haunted Shock's dreams for as long as she remembered them.

"Oogie," she whispered.

A deep chuckle came as the response. "I see that you kids have not yet forgotten me. As I said before, it's not over. I've yet to repay Jack's kind favor."

The stunted candle flickered then its flame expanded, extending its reach further into the room, revealing an elegantly dressed woman standing in a darkened corner. A flowing forest green cloak flowed down her lanky figure, held at her neck by a silver serpent brooch. Her brunette curled hair was done up into a stiff bun, framing her austere high cheek-boned face. She stared at them with disinterest, her thin lips arched in a cynical manner.

"Who's that?" Barrel trembled.

The woman inclined her bony chin. "I'm called many things by those who fear me. But you shall address me as 'Madame Mombi.' So I heard from Oogie that you three will be assisting in our little endeavors. Frankly I'm disappointed. I did not expect you to be children." She sniffed.

Oogie sneered at her but remained concealed in the black veil. "Looks can be deceiving. They get the job done at least." Lock squirmed as he gripped him tightly on the shoulder. "Now listen closely, I have a task for the three of you."

Of the many times Jack had walked the grounds of the Hinterlands, he had always avoided one particular area. Within the depths of the forest several knolls lie bunched together. Caves honeycombed their surface in which the elusive Narsims lived. Long ago before Pumpkinhead's reign, it was the site where the Narsims thrived; their numbers were in the thousands. That was before the witches found great uses from their pelts for their magic. As a result, careless over hunting had dramatically reduced the number to a mere handful. It was only when Pumpkinhead had banned the practice and established a reserve for the Narsims did the brutal attacks on Halloween Town ceased. Still feelings were bitter on both sides despite the uneasy neutrality.

To say the least, Jack's presence was already a violation of the treaty. Yet it couldn't be helped. He needed answers.

He found the knolls strangely desolate. Nothing stirred except the leaves being scattered by the wind. He strained his eyes hoping to spot anything in the murky depths of the caves. Then he thought he saw something move.

"Hello? I just want to talk. Please, it's urgent."

Within the shadows, Jack could make out the hulking form inside which gained clarity as the figure approached the entrance. Stepping out was a Narsim of massive proportions. It resembled closely to a Real World gorilla, with broad shoulders and thick arms. Only its remarkable fur made it distinguishable. As it moved its rich coat dispersed the light, giving it a shimmering effect much like the waters of a vibrant river. The ape's beetle-black eyes narrowed as it stared at Jack.

"You are not welcomed here, Hallow," it spoke with a rumbling growl. "Do not proceed further or it shall be seen as an act of aggression."

"Please, I only want to know if your people have suffered any attacks from foreign creatures. You see, Jitters have invaded our burial grounds and..."

"Our people have suffered and our numbers grow fewer still. A great evil has descended upon the land. Our slain has no place to rest."

Jack blinked and nodded. "Yes, the Jitters saw to that. But what is this great evil you speak of?"

An tense silence fell between them so that Jack wondered if the Narsim refused to respond. But the answer came so slow and deliberate, falling like poisoned petals from a dying rose. "You. You brought it upon us. You brought it upon us all. Now all shall die."

"What?" Jack turned his head sharply when he heard a deep guttural growl coming from around a rocky outcrop close by. He scowled, his body poised and ready to strike with his Soul Robber. Slowly he approached the source of the disturbance.

Only a second of the Narsim's shriek gave him warning. A throbbing blow stung his side, then the world spun as he felt himself spiraling through the air. Recovering quickly, he landed eagle-sprawled facing his sudden attacker. The Narsim had disappeared.

Pacing on four ebony hooves, shoulders hunched, was a bulky blood red fiend. Every part of its muscular body flexed and despite its hefty built it moved with incredible speed. A thickset jaw, spear-like tusks and flaming red eyes completed the demonic sight. Its gaze fixed on the Pumpkin King that froze the marrow in Jack's bones.

"Crimson," Jack snarled, baring his teeth.

The beast charged, using its weight in an effort to pin Jack to an ancient elm. But its prey was ready. Hurtling his Soul Robber, Jack caught hold of a branch and vaulted himself into the tree, safe from the onslaught; that is until it began to ram into the trunk instead, shaking Jack so badly that he almost toppled from his perch.

With a flip, Jack landed squarely on its back, throwing the creature into full rage. Its unearthly howl resonated among the Hinterland forests, shaking the ground with great intensity. Then it bucked and reared violently, trying to dislodged its unwanted rider, but Jack held tight to its coarse neck fur. One slip and his bones would be trampled to dust.

The Crimson took Jack on a hellish ride. They rode through thickets of thorn shrubbery, churned the mighty waters of a stream, and even shattered stolid boulders the size of small huts. Regardless of the damage from the debris, Jack held on for dear life.

As the land continued to whip by, he knew that he had to do something before his strength was zapped and he could no longer keep his grip. Throwing caution to the wind, Jack wrapped his Soul Robber around the creature's eyes, rendering it blind and providing Jack a makeshift halter. Pulling hard, Jack steered the demon toward what he thought was a clearing until the sharp decline of the ground told him otherwise. With horror, Jack realized only too late that he rode himself toward a deep ravine. With no way to stop the stampeding fiend, the two went hurtling off the cliff and into the air. The frothing rapids below rushed up to Jack and it would have been the end of him had he not spotted a crooked old tree growing on the cliff side.

Deftly, he snagged hold of a branch with his green weapon, effectively breaking his fall. Only the Soul Robber was his lifeline from a traumatic death. Glancing down, Jack watched as the Crimson tumbled and fell, plunging into the white foam water.

Beaten, bruised, and worn, Jack pulled himself up the steep slope, using the cracks and ledges as holds. With the last bit of strength, the skeleton pulled himself over the ledge. He laid there on the rocky soil not able to move. Exhausted, his energy spent, the Pumpkin King succumbed to a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5 Growing Pains

Upon Spiral Hill, Jack Skellington had the stars to himself. Each glimmering jewel, encrusted in the dark veil of the night sky, belonged to him. On every given day they assured him that life was indeed enchanting and exciting. But this night was different. The orbs glowed with an indifferent light, cruelly reminding him of how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.

With a heavy heart, Jack stood on the crest of the mound, eaten with self-pity and bitterness. His shoulders hunched in defeat. Tears pooled at the edge of his eye sockets, trailing down his bony chin.

The wispy specter of Zero drifted by his side, looking up at his master with deep concern. But the boy skeleton paid no heed; his eyes looked downcast at the shadows at his feet. He wished dearly that the ground would open up and swallow him.

Letting out an anguished sigh he glanced over to the ghostly canine. "It's not fair Zero. I don't want to go. Why don't my parents respect that?"

Zero could only stare back, whimpering in sympathy. Nevertheless, Jack continued his lament. "I mean, none of my friends attend Grimsdale, and the school is filled with rich stuck up kids. And not to mention the rules and regulations are going to kill me!" Jack exclaimed, clenching a fist.

This last statement was the most true, since it was that reason alone that Jack's parents had approved of the plan. Because of Jack's 'irresponsible and uncivilized behavior,' they hoped that the militant Grimsdale Academy would whip him into a 'respectable gentlemen of his breeding.' Respectable indeed, Jack thought with a scowl. As if a couple of pranks at one meeting stigmatized him as a 'uncouth youth' for the rest of his life. He couldn't believe his parents could be such stiffs.

As with any young adolescent, Jack had found the cemetery as a place where he could withdraw from his parents' iron control. It was where he could just be himself, free from any of the obligations of his nobleman birthright. No one was there to remind him of proper behavior, and for once he had the quiet he needed to think.

Kicking up the leaves, Jack treaded his way down the path and turned into the pumpkin patch. A lattice gate barred the way, but having long limbs he easily scaled it. Peering about, he kept watch for the cumbersome form of Behemoth the town gardener (whose chief duty was to grow the town's pumpkins and chase kids from the patch). Area cleared, Jack landed softly on the other side and continued his way. Silently, Zero glided after him.

No matter how many times Jack walked through the patch, he was always amazed at the various sizes of the pumpkins, which proved to be very well grown and cared for. He strode among them, dwarfed on either side by the gargantuan squashes and tiptoed among the tiny ones clustered at their base. The vines grew rampant yet well-placed due to proper maintenance.

Feeling quite at ease, the heated argument began to gradually recede from his mind. Jack helped himself to a small pumpkin. Biting through the thick yellow rind, the fragrant juice burst forth, trickling down his jaw in a sticky yet sweet mess. He gave a broad grin and licked his bony fingers in delight. Jack enjoyed his treat immensely that he failed to notice that Zero's ribbon like ears had shot straight up, a low growl emitted from his lips. Only did the ghost dog started barking did Jack dropped his pumpkin and turned.

In the dark, a glowing smile leered back at him from above a giant pumpkin. Jack smiled. "Zero, it's just a jack-o-lantern, see?" he said laughing at the puppy's naiveté.

But his laugh was cut short as Jack thought he saw one of the carved eyes winked at him. Frowning, Jack moved forward a step and gave a wink back. This time, the other eye winked. Startled, Jack dashed backward a few steps, tripping over a root, and then stumbled his way up again. This time Zero let out a furious bark and Jack noticed that the smiling pumpkin had disappeared.

Suddenly he felt something seized his shoulder, spinning him around roughly.

An impossibly tall creature clad in a purple waistcoat stood before him, its long spider-like arms and legs swaying slowly as if autumn wind controlled them. A bright yellowed light glared from the carvings in the jack-o-lantern face, leering at him like a demon from hell.

Jack screamed and struggled with all his might, fighting to free himself from the fiend's branched fingers. But the grip was firm and Jack's efforts proved futile. He raised his arm to fend himself just as the figure spoke.

"Good heavens, did I frightened you? By all means that was not my intent."

Creaking open one eye socket, Jack peered up at the towering form. "W-what?"

Looking down at him, the fixed smile on the jack-o-lantern widened in what was supposed to be in a friendly manner. Yet for poor Jack it looked anything but.

"I said I'm sorry for sneaking up on you like that. If I had known you were a child and not some ogre or…"

"Child?" Jack cried out in indignation. He yanked his arm from the loosened twigs. "I'm no child and I was not afraid," he said adamantly.

"Oh dear. So you are not. Still it is questionable of why you are out so late and in the graveyard nonetheless. There may be goblin bandits prowling these parts."

Once the shock wore off, Jack felt his bravado return. "I never saw them and I've been walking through here many times. So I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

A soft light chuckle issued from the pumpkin. "I'm sure, but I doubt that you've even seen a goblin in real life aside from books."

Jack shook his head. "No. Have you?" Now that the fright was over, Jack was interested in the stranger who seemed friendly enough.

"More than I can care for," came the reply. "Gave me quite some trouble when I fought them."

"You FOUGHT them?" Jack asked in amazement.

"Mind you this was before your time, in fact 50 years ago. Yes, it was when it was too dangerous to be out of doors past dusk. It was time of great fear."

Jack blinked in surprise, remembering his history lessons. Of the entire dry monologue from Witch Spruce, Jack found only the founding of Halloween Town exciting, particularly the skirmishes between the early settlers and hostile creatures that threatened to raze the town to the ground. And to hear a story from someone who actually experienced the last front of invaders was a real treat to an inquisitive youngster like Jack.

And so the pumpkin-headed man indulged the skeleton youth with a blow by blow account of the Battle of Mucilage, where the backbone of the goblin marauders was shattered by the flanking force of thestral calvary lead by himself.

"The enemy never expected us to emerge from the brambles, seeing that the trail was nearly impassable. Yet that was their fatal mistake. While Evendor the Galliant distracted the main body of their army, my battalion charged from the growth and cleaved our way straight down the middle of the enemy, ploughing down the archers and cutting them away from the infantry. And the rest was history."

Jack's face lit up as he listened to the tale, picturing himself fighting right alongside the stranger and putting the enemy to flight. "Go on, then what?"

The storyteller gave a Jack a wide grin. "Well of course the enemy never recovered from that devastating defeat. Eventually the Loyal Nine dispersed and never came back to contest our grounds again."

Jack clapped, appreciating the tale so skillfully told. "Amazing! Absolutely delightful! Tell me, did you won any awards or medals? Surely you did!"

A lighthearted laugh came from the other. "More than that. They gave me a position that would haunt me with meetings and paperwork to this day. Some reward, huh?" He winked.

"And what position is that may I ask?"

The pumpkin-headed man blinked in surprise. "Are you serious you don't know who I am?"

Jack frowned as he thought it over. "You do look familiar enough. Yes, I saw you at every one of those lame balls and social gatherings my parents drag me to. But I don't believe we were properly introduced."

"No, we weren't. I suppose it's because children are expected to meet dignitaries."

Looking the man over, Jack saw him in a new light. Then the realization hit him. He stood quickly. "You're...You're Jack Pumpkinhead! T-the Pumpkin King!" he stammered in embarressment, eye sockets wide.

The tall lithe frame of the king rose and flourished a graceful bow. "At your service. I would like you to call me Jack if you don't mind. Just plain old Jack."

Jack Skellington stared dumbfounded. He kicked himself mentally for not recognizing the powerful figure sooner. And here he was mouthing off to royalty. How impudent he was! "Listen. I didn't mean anything by my disrespectful attitude earlier. Please don't tell my parents!" he blurted.

"Tell them what? Ah, you're a Skellington aren't you. The youngest child of John and Victoria I assume. Jack, right?"

"Yes sir," Jack answered meekly.

"Pleasant couple as I recall. And quite opinionated. They were generous in offering advice in cutting funds for public education, saying that the money should be given to the already wealthy private schools." He smirked.

Jack stared uneasily at the moon, realizing how late it was. "I must take leave. Please don't mention of this to my parents."

The Pumpkin King smiled and nodded. "If that is what you desire, Jack. I do hope we'll meet again. Pleasure running into you in the pumpkin patch."

"Likewise sir."

The harsh cawing of a raven brought Jack back to consciousness. He woke in a dimly lit room, wincing as droplets of dew from the ceiling fell unto his face. From afar he heard low voices conversing nearby.

Sitting up, he was startled to find that he was inside a cave. Then the previous events returned to him. How long had he slept? The crunching of sand alerted him of someone approaching. He turned and saw a small golden-furred Narsim staring at him intently. It was hard to tell who was more curious of the other.

"Maru says that you were the one who destroyed the beast that claimed so many of our people," it spoke. "Is it true?"

Jack scoffed. "It was more like a stroke of luck. Is this Maru your leader, the silver-furred chap that I first met? I want to thank him for leaving me to that Crimson."

The gold Narsim blinked its jewel black eyes. "Yes, that was Maru and he did it to test you."

"Test me?"

"To find out if these vicious creatures belong to you. You're not with them?"

"Definately not."

With that the Narsim gave Jack a toothy grin. "Then you are hero. Many of our warriors have faced the Crimsons and were killed violently."

"And I fear that they'll be more," a new voice spoke.

Jack and the young Narsim watched as the one known as Maru entered. His thick lips were set firmly as if smiling was an unknown art. "I see that young Kachen has brought you up to date. I'm afraid that your battle, though you have fought bravely, means nothing. That Crimson is one of the many demons that rushed into our lands lead by a strange witch. They came without warning, tearing our pack asunder, reducing our already dwindling numbers."

"Wait, a witch?"

"Yes, and I made a grevious mistake in thinking she was in league with you," Maru admitted. "But these are desperate times and trust is hard to come by. I hope you'll forgive us. And if you ever want to come back you can. However, there are more pressing matters."

Placing a heavy, thick hand on Jack's arm, Maru lead the Pumpkin King to the light of the world outside the cave entrance.

From atop the highest knoll in the colony, Jack could see the curtains of trees that spread out for miles around. Only one part was clear, revealing the deeper interior of the forest. It was there that Maru pointed out a ridge that overlooked a ravine.

"That is where the witch and her horde headed."

To Jack's dismay, he realized that the direction Maru indicated led to the northwest, towards the Holiday Doors. And while Halloween Town were prepared for battle, the other holiday towns were not.

Whoever this witch was she was determined, pushing her terrible army to cover the ground in a small span of time. Jack frowned and nodded his thanks to Maru. "Then I must warn the other leaders, though I fear I may be too late." The stakes were higher than Halloween Town, much higher.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Sally wiped her brow and smiled at the result of her handiwork. The spider lace had worked like a charm, giving her dress the flair it needed. Running a hand down the mannequin, occassionally removing a needle from her mouth, she pinned up the loose folds and smoothed out the creases in the fabric.

Standing back, she clapped her hands gleefully as she studied her handmade ball dress. How Jack would be so pleased!

Jack. It seemed like forever since he left. Sally stared out at the cemetary, her heart throbbing with anxiety. What had become of him?

"Oh Jack. Where are you?" Her words echoed unanswered in her cold empty room. Gazing at the setting sun, Sally knew that the Doctor would come out of his lab, expecting a late lunch. The grief would have to wait.

Upon arriving at the market place, Sally was surprised to see so such a crowd. Many had their head pressed close together, conversing in hushed tones. Yet she had no time to inquire of such strange happenings, so she pushed her way to a vendor stall.

"Pardon me, I'd like to buy a pound of pumpkin pulp please," she called over the din.

A sully old witch eyed her and shook her head. "We're out lassy. The last pumpkin was sold out 6 hours ago. And we can't get more. All our distributors are out of stock."

And it was not only at this particular stall that had this problems. It turned out that every booth in town was cleaned out of pumpkins. This proved to be a predicament, since most of the basic diet of most Hallows were pumpkins. Almost every recipie demands it, and Sally's cookbook was no different.

But her troubles were nothing compared to the fortune of others. Around every corner she could hear loud outbursts from enraged customers.

A dumpy dressed old hag was practically screaming at one witch, all the while struggling to keep her three soot-faced children in line.

"What do you mean your OUT?! I can't afford anything else. I need that pumpkin. Do you want my little ones to STARVE?!!"

Sally tried not to stare, but her heart felt sickened at the family's impovished nature. She had never met them, being the fact that the poor of Halloween Town lived in the most disreputable place, the slums. Looking around, she noted that much of the crowds about her were made of these people. The stench from unwashed bodies was overpowering.

As for the merchants, they became disgusted with such a crowd surrounding their property and the vampiress was no different. "Look, if you don't have the money then just leave. I'm not running a charity here so don't expect handouts."  
A screech and the hag lunged at the vampiress, grabbing a handful of hair. Clawing and scratching, the two women went down while the crowd broke into cheers and jeers, drunk on the drawing of blood. An outright riot would have taken place but then the blaring of a horn interrupted the scene.

"Enough vith you," Denti, the youngest Vampire Brother announced. He perched precariously on a stack of crates. "I vant no trouble. Move on." Beside him Mayor wrung his hands watching on helplessly.

Discouraged, the crowds took leave, huddling at other vendors to bargain for lower prices on goods. The old hag, disheartened and disleveled, turned to leave.

"Mummy, what are we to eat?"

"I don't know, I don't know…" the woman sobbed.

Setting her lips, Sally marched to the vendor and bought a pound of bat gizzards. She shoved the package into the hag's wrinkled hands. "Here," she said softly.

With tears in her eyes, the old woman choked a sob and whispered her thanks. "Bless you, child." Then she left with her little brood.

Shoving through the masses, Mayor emerged, his face blanched from panic and frustration. "Sally, oh thank heavens! Have you seen Jack? Doctor Finkelstein told me he'd be back in a few hours."

Sally shook her head sadly. "No Mayor, I haven't. I fear something dreadful must have happened."

"Oh don't say that. I already had enough trouble as it is. Those loathsome Jitters are wreaking havoc in the pumpkin patch. Behemoth's at his wits end trying to keep them out. They destroyed much of the ripe pumpkins that hadn't been already succumbed to the rain. At this rate the whole town could starve!"

"Not to mention," added Denti, "the fact that there is trouble on the outskirts. My brothers and I have been up and down the countryside fighting off bands of headless horsemen and vanshees. Ve're lucky so far. Jack varned us early so most of the homes were evacuated by then."

Mayor sighed, clenching his hands in agony. "Uuh, why does Jack had to disappeared now? The poor folks are about to rise a mutiny and they won't listen to me!

As Jack reached the Holiday Doors, the sun veered toward the end of its course, transforming into a great red orb. The dying daylight bathed the dry wasteland in blood. Anxiety grew in Jack's chest as he recognized the tracks of Crimson that tore the earth in clods at the base of the trees. It was when he set his eyes upon one particular door that Jack's heart froze.

Swinging wistfully by the hinges, the Christmas door stood wide open.

Gritting his teeth irritably, Finkelstein had just about enough. The lab that held so much pride in was in shambles. Strewn all about him were papers, documents, and stacks of tomes, all clustered on his precious inventions.

Yet oblivious to his plight, Old Man Deer puttered about, ruffling through yellow parchment and jotting down notes all the while muttering incoherently to himself.

The Doctor rapped his fingers on an arm rest. "Do you mind? I have other things to deal with, like the safety of Halloween Town. Is your research so important than that?"

Peering over his pince-nez glasses, the deer glared and replied gruffly, "Of course it is, do you want to find a way to rid the town of Jitters or not?" Suddenly he yelped as he stumbled over a loose scrap of metal. "Confound your rubbish! Don't you ever clean here?"

The Doctor bristled in indignation. "Need I remind you that the 'rubbish' as you put it are my tools of science," he said icily.

"Bah. Science indeed. As if it's any use to a medieval town like this one."

The two elderly men sneered at the other and fisticuff would have ensued had not the elevator rose.

"Now what?" Finkelstein scowled.

Upon the lift stood the stout stature of the Mayor who hobbled in, glancing nervously about. He looked very out of place. Hell, he hadn't been in here for ages. Yet it was still the same gloomy, dank…

"I HAVEN'T ALL DAY!"

Mayor jumped and dashed up the ramp stairwell. He approached the two elder with hat in hand. "Pardon me, Doctor. B-but I bring terrible news. Some slum dwellers have emerged and are hassling the storekeepers above ground. I had my hands full with the riots without you calling back the Vampire Brothers."

The Doctor set his lips grimly. "I told you, defense of the town is top priority. What about the emergency stockpile? Haven't you enough to feed the masses?"

"No sir, at least only a district. The Jitters have gotten into everything the rains hadn't spoiled."

"Then what about the other foods? Tell the vendors to sell their goods at a lower price on the account of an emergency."

"B-but."

The Doctor scratched his brain madly. Even with the other foods to supplement the slum dwellers' diets, there still wasn't enough to feed everyone. And no one could leave the town to get more supplies lest they were attacked by the Crimsons outside. They were trapped, hemmed inside their walls, starving slowly to death. Unless…

The scientist started as an idea hit him. "Wait, Christmas Town is our ally now see? We could ask them to send food to us."

"Oh God, not the sugar plums and pies again," groaned Old Man Deer. "I've had enough to last me a lifetime. And candy canes make me bloaty."

The Doctor just smiled smugly and congratulated himself for his plan. Wheeling over to a battered old green cupboard, he withdrew from it a snow globe with a tiny snowman figurine inside its glass done.

With a firm shake a flurry of white confetti swirled and slowly a view of the glistening Christmas Town appeared in its depths before zooming in on Santa's house. Thankfully Santa had the idea of enchanting it earlier. Before they knew it, the three found themselves staring at the jolly face of St. Nick gazing back at them in shock.

"Doctor, I didn't expect…Where's Jack?"

"Question of the day," Old Man Deer replied haughtily.

Mayor blurted out, "We have no idea! He just left to see the Jitters at the graveyard…"

"Jitters?"

Hadn't it been his wheelchair, the good doctor would have throttled the Mayor then and there. The last thing they needed was for Santa to be involved. Yet before he could stop him, the Mayor related everything that occurred since the morning.

"Dear me, and you're only telling me this now?" Santa asked in astonishment. "You know I'd help sooner if you had said the word. Well, I'll send a sleigh of supplies and till then I'll keep an eye out for Jack. That fellow sure has a knack for trouble."

"Don't I know it," Mayor groaned.

Suddenly Santa turned his face from their sight to address someone beyond the scope of their vision. For a while there was only a silent, but rapid conversation took place before Santa turned back to face them, looking extremely harried.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry but that supply sleigh may be later than I expected. Apparently we have trouble on the frontier. I have to go." With that the snow globe fizzled and the shower of white snow returned.

And uneasy silence fell among the party. Only Old Man Deer voiced their concern. "Now what the hell is happening over there?"

"No! No! No! NO!!!" Sally prodded the black goop that had collected at the bottom of the cauldron in frustration. She cursed herself once again for being so thoughtless for not watching the pot more closely. Engrossed in her own worry for Jack, she had failed to head the simmering stew until the pungent odor of smoke wafted under her nose.

Carefully she removed the mess and placed another vat of boiling water on the stove. Maybe there was time to make another batch, she hoped. At any rate she had to rid of the foul stench before the Doctor noticed. The manhole behind the tower could do the trick.

The whirling of the elevator told her it was too late. The Doctor, Old Man Deer, and Mayor, the last of which looked deeply troubled.

"Sally, there you are. I…" the Doctor took a whiff and gagged, wrinkling his tiny nose. "Wretched girl, you were careless again. No matter. We won't be dining here. I must meet with the Vampire Brothers and plan the next course of action. Apparently, Christmas Town is in jeopardy."

"Jeopardy? Our town is in jeopardy! I never have seen such anger from the people!" Mayor interjected. "If we don't do something we may have an uprising."

"Damn it!" The Doctor snapped. "Can't you even handle a few unhappy citizens? It's a wonder why you're even an official in the first place. You can't even deal with domestic troubles!"

Sally frowned as she thought this was harsh, the Doctor was correct but terrible with his honesty. As Finkelstein and Old Man Deer left the tower, she glanced over to the dejected Mayor. "I'm sorry. The Doctor's been under a lot of pressure but I'll have a word with him later about his behavior."

The stout fellow sighed. "Ah, but he's right. I'm not much use in situation like this," he replied miserably.

"Calm down, I'm sure we can talk some sense into those vendors. All we have to do is tell the residents to be patient."

Mayor's head whirled to its happier side. "You're absolutely right. We'll just have to hold out until Jack comes back." His head turned again. "That's if he ever does."

The rag doll could only share the same sentiment. Still there was no sign of Jack anywhere and the troubles in town were increasingly becoming more problematic. For now the Vampire Brothers led the patrols in successfully defending the borders. Yet that could change. For now, only the receding lights of the sunset was their sole protection against the creatures of darkness.

"Ow! That was my foot, dummy!" Lock growled as Barrel ambled past clumsily. He gave the smaller boy shove and what could have resulted in a childish brawl was stopped by Shock's sharp tongue.

"Cut it out! Do you want to get caught? Let's get this over with so we can get out of here."

'Here' turned out to be a well-organized garden with rows of leafy boughs of potato plants. Unlike their home, growth carpeted the land thanks to the abundant rainfall. It felt strange being hemmed in on all sides by curtains of green but at least for the pranksters it provided niches to hide should anyone come their way.

Together they dropped the heavy duffel bag unto the ground and began rummaging through it, withdrawing long, brightly-colored cylinders.

Glancing at one of them, Barrel smirked. "I wonder if they'll fizzle first and then explode." He waved it about carelessly until Shock snatched it hastily from him.

"Doesn't matter. Oogie's got plenty of other jobs for us, so move it."

Along the hedges, they found a line of picket fences. Using this they propped the rockets against it as a support. A long trailing cord connecting all of them weaved its way behind a boulder where the three stationed themselves.

"Ready?" they chorused.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!!"

With that, Shock shot a well-aimed fire spell at the cord which instantly lit. The spark zig-zagged down the fuse, and flew into the rockets themselves. The explosion was deafening. A high shrill issued from the launching firecrackers which blasted into a many-hued shower. The sparks fell, catching hold on the potato plants, consuming them in their ravenous flames.

Far away in safety, three chortled until they heard raised voices calling from afar and fast approaching.

"We gotta scram," Lock hissed. As quickly as they came they disappeared into the shadows of the forest.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6: A Foreboding Premonition

The bolted door should have made her feel safer. And yet Sally could not help but feel so insecure. Only a wooden door stood between her and the rabble outside. Mutiny ruled the streets and anyone could be targeted. Yet how could things gotten this out of hand? Why hadn't the Doctor responded to the threat? Worry tore at her heart with nothing to alleviate it.

At first she tried sewing the hem on her ball dress, hoping that the mundane task would distract her from the tension. It proved fruitless as she only ended up pricking herself several times and had to redo the mess of stitches again.

Finding a loose thread hanging from the shoulder pad of her dress, she went to her sewing machine to retrieve a pair of scissors when her eyes fell upon a small corsage of white roses by her the side table. A small smile edged its way to her lips, recalling the moment when Jack presented it to her with such shyness that was so contradictory to his outspoken personality. 

How different they were and yet the same. Nevertheless, it was because of Jack that she became her own person.

The fact was Sally had been created by the Doctor to serve not only as the mad scientist's obedient and intelligent helper, but to be a companion for the lonely, miserable Igor. But alas, she was a failure in both roles. She was too intelligent, the Doctor would later say, that to expect servitude from her was impossible. Her independent, restless nature made her unsuitable for the crucible of the humble servant. As for being Igor's only friend, Sally could never find anything to talk about. He never could understand her wild nature, her need to leave and see the world. Needless to say, the simple-minded lovable dunce could never comprehend such musings.

And so Sally kept these thoughts to herself, seeking escape in the old romance novels that she found in the old dungeon. Her mind delved into tales of chivalry, faithfulness, and desire. Many times she pictured herself as the young damsel who in the end would find her true love.

And then there was the tower that loomed outside her bedroom window. Her mind filled with fanciful imagination, she would gaze at the pacing silhouette framed by the flickering candlelight, deeply entranced by the slender shadow. And so her passionate heart invented stories as deftly as the Doctor invented his devices. The one in the tower was who she was destined to be with. Cruel fate kept them apart, yet they were so close. But one day her lover would whisk her from her stone prison and set her free.

How the Doctor had tried to suppress such thoughts. Servants were not supposed to dream of the world outside. At first he ignored her questions, then sharply reminded her of her duties, and finally confined her in her own room. But Sally refused to be subdued. She was much more than this. She wanted freedom, adventure, and love, all of which she believed existed outside her all too small room.

So she plotted and schemed, coming up with ideas to plan her escape. Each time they failed and she was caught and punished. It was only by pure chance that she happened upon a old herbology book where she discovered the Deadly Nightshade and its potency to put one into a deep sleep, a "mock death."

This was all well and good, but obtaining the item took effort. Her first batch came from Igor, who she tricked into getting it for her, saying the Doctor needed something to calm his nerves. It worked perfectly and from then on she made sure she restocked her soup cabinet with the herb that she found grew abundantly in the graveyard.

Jack. He was nothing like the romance novels' valiant hero. No he was much more. For all the golden suitors in those fairy tales, she chose him despite his imperfections, his faults, his pride. His determination to set things right even if he was the cause of the problem was nobler than the slaying of a thousand dragons. Disillusioned, Sally loved the dear skeleton as he was, not as how she wished him to be.

Her lips parted, a prayer escaped from them for the safety of her beloved. "Wherever you are Jack, come back to us."

The meeting with the merchants was nothing short of disaster. No one listened, no one cared. Yet Mayor felt he could have done more, maybe knock sense into their cold hearts. Even before he could even utter a word, however, the tension in the room was almost tangible. And yet, he tried pleading with them to lower their prices of various other foods so that the poor would have something to eat.

But alas money was their god and anything that hindered the reaping of profits was blasphemy. Charity had no place in their world.

"Are you mad?" shouted Mr. Venderbilt, the gravestone tycoon. "That's nothing short of giving the scum handouts. They'll only expect more. Nay, we must be cautious; for if one offers his hand to a werewolf, he shall lose his arm."

"B-but what about the poor?" Mayor stammered. "They could only stand so much. There has already been a few blows exchanged and if it weren't for the Vampire Brothers..."

"That's your problem isn't it, Your Honor?" the well-dressed ghoul sneered, delighted as Mayor squirmed under his gaze. "After all, an elected official is responsible for the welfare of the public," he said patronizingly.

It was a politician's worst nightmare. Mayor knew that he had no authority behind his words, nothing to enforce his proposal. Although he had the title, the fact was he was nothing more than a charlatan.

Now here he was once again being nothing more than an unwanted guest among Halloween Town's last hope. Sitting before him about a massive marble moon-shaped table assembled the Civil Defense Board with Doctor Finkelstein as the chairman. At hand were the four adjutant generals of the armed forces the Vampire Brothers who looked thoroughly undead tired.

"Gentlemen, we have to face the facts," the Doctor began. "We have spread our troops across the countryside in an effort to protect those who live outside the town. But according to Fang's report, this is an unwise move on our part."

The eldest brother stood. "Although ve tried patrolling the area to vatch for threats there are still places where the enemy slipped through our lines. The goblins are the most resourceful of all, striking our men and razing a number a mills before fleeing into the safety of the hinterlands. They have taken many prisoners this way."

Placing his gloved hands on the table, the Doctor fixed his gaze on everyone and scowled. "This is unacceptable. They're preying on our vulnerability. We have to withdraw our troops closer to town." He shook his head grimly. "I'm afraid those who live in the outskirts must vacate the area and seek protection within the walls. Now before I continue are there any other issues..."

"We still have the markets to deal with," Mayor piped up.

"Didn't I tell you to deal with that earlier?" the Doctor snapped. 

"But they won't listen! They...refuse to obey." 

"What kind of official are you?" Finkelstein hissed. "You have to force them, break in their pride. Do you really think that those fat cats would give in if you ask them nicely? Good God!" Disgusted he turned from Mayor and addressed Vladmir, the second eldest brother. "I want you to assemble a detail to seize the goods from the shops and distribute it among the people. Tell the sellers they'll be repaid by the town as soon as this affair is over."

The wheelchair whirled as the wizen old scientist fixed Mayor an irritable look. "I can't BELIEVE you forced me to withdraw some of our troops for this!" In a huff, the Doctor left the room accompanied by the vampires.

As much as Mayor wanted to believe the problem was handled, something down inside gnawed at him. Not since the time of his suspicions of Jack's take-over of Christmas had he had such negative reaction, as if all bells of warning went off in the back of his mind. Yet he did not voice his concern, knowing full well that the Doctor probably knew more than he did. After all, Jack placed Finkelstein in charge and not him. Dejectedly, Mayor watched as they filed out from the room.

Hoping off the ebony leather armchair, Mayor paced about, his hands clasped behind his back. His brow furrowed with anxiety.

Face it, Hizzoner. Jack may not return in time to save the town. The Doctor has already taken action. Why couldn't you? 

Pressing his forehead against the cold, unyielding glass window, he scowled at his own cowardly reflection when a clipped voice spoke up.

"You might want to back off. You're fogging up the glass."

He turned to see Old Man Deer still squatting among the heaps of yellowed parchments and tattered scrolls from the Vampire Brother's Archive Vault. For once the old creature had pulled its beady gaze from the papers and stared at Mayor intently.

"You know, you're pretty pathetic," Old Man Deer continued casually. "I've been sitting here listening to every word those fools are saying and you haven't the backbone to speak up."

Mayor shrugged. "What does it matter? The Doctor already has everything under control."   
"Really? You didn't seem too pleased with his plan." 

Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed, Mayor shook his head briskly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Setting down his owl quill pen, the old buck peered over the top of his pince-nez glasses. "Don't be an ass. You may know nothing about leading people, but at least your inner compass isn't faulty. Even I had my misgivings about the Doctor's idea. The old codger's sending armed men into a place filled with civilians. And as it occurs often in history, that's never a good mix." He narrowed his tiny eyes. "Trust me, there will be bloodshed."

The powdery snow beneath Jack's feet crunched as he dashed across the frozen countryside, his mind racing with anxiety. As he reached the peak of the last hill, he found Christmas Town just as it should not be. Nothing short of desecration could describe the hellish scene before him.

Flames rippled across the rooftops, devouring the once festive decorations into cinders. The once joyful merry-go-round was reduced to a heap of scrap metal. Everywhere Jack looked there were just remnants of the holiday he cherished three years ago.

It was as if a cold, blade had wounded his soul. A part of him screamed in agony, as if it too was slain and lie lifeless amid the rubble. At first, he could only stare in shock, hardly believing and not wanting to believe what he was seeing. As the numbness subsided, an overwhelming grief seized him. He wept openly and unashamed for his fallen dream.

God, I'm too late. What was to become of Christmas now? Jack pressed his bony fingers against his temples, fighting to control himself. That feeling, that wonderful feeling was gone. Why? What could possess anyone to destroy such joy, such hope?

And yet despite such darkness, a small glimmer of light rose from the depths of his reasoning. All that was before him was only a shadow. The master of Christmas may very well be alive and with him the holiday spirit. 

At this realization, Jack felt greatly calmed by the thought, but still gravely concerned of the fate of Sandy. "I have to know," Jack said. "Does he still live?"

Half running, half sliding, he stumbled down the steep icy slope and entered the town. Picking his way among the debris, he tore down every alley, searching for any signs of life. Yet miraculously he could not find even one fallen body. Only tracks were evidence of the conflict.

But as he turned up another street, he could hear voices. Pressing himself against a wall, Jack edged his way to the corner, peering cautiously around it.

"Oy, of all the blasted luck," growled a gruff voice. "The nerve of the commander, stationing us here whilst the rest of them get drunk on ale." The goblin spat angrily.

His shorter companion sneered. "And havin' a good time by the sound of it too," he answered glancing over to Santa's home. Windows lit; Jack could see the distorted shadows framed by the yellow light. A chorus of uproarious laughter filtered onto the street.

"And what's the bother with searching for a stinkin' reindeer anyway? If ye ask me, all they're useful for is venison." At that the two chuckled darkly.

Jack frowned. Reindeer? He edged closer. 

"That witch Mombi sure is a few rats short of nest. Chasin' after old papers and whatnot. The worst of it all is trying to find some pathetic old deer that's crazy over ancient history. Ye know what she's up to?"

"Nah, it doesn't matter. As long as we get our fill of plunder, I could care less. How Oogie puts up with such a nasty character like her is anyone's guess." 

Jack started. Oogie was back? He scowled. No doubt it was those three pesky kids again. It was no wonder why they hadn't shown up for ball preparations. But this Mombi...Who was she and what was she up to that even Oogie would work with her? And what was Old Man Deer's part in this? He had to get back to Halloween Town quickly. 

Slinking away, Jack escaped from the goblin's hearing and kept to the shadows. He had to find anything to give him an idea of Sandy's whereabouts. Turning up the back alley, he moved unto a street lined with red houses. In his mad rush, he almost did not see it. Among the decorate houses sat a shoddy and plain wooden cottage. On closer inspection, Jack saw the gate had been torn off and thrown aside at this particular abode. A mailbox lay in the gnome garden, reading 'Old Man Deer' upon its side. Curious, Jack ducked and entered the home through the open door left ajar by the careless search party.

Yet for all his hopes, the house was dismally furnished. Old furniture was shoved alongside the wall, covered in white sheets. Except for these, there was little else in the house. Only broken chairs littered the rooms, indicating that the searchers had taken out their frustration on finding that their quarry eluded them.

Knowing full well that the presence of Old Man Deer very well endangered his town, Jack shook his head as if he could hardly believe he was wasting time. Just what was he expecting?

As he past the dusty mantel, his bow tie snagged unto a golden candlestick, promptly knocking it over. Picking it up, Jack replaced it when he noticed that the mantel was oddly swept in some places. Indeed one spot was cleaned while the rest remained filthy.

Tracing a bony hand across this odd panel, Jack was surprised to find that one of the tiles moved. Edging it out with his finger, he lifted it to find a dark niche containing only a small green leather-bound notebook. Opening the yellowed pages, Jack found many diagrams of strange symbols and scrawling of comments, all systematically recorded with proper dates and citation. Flipping through it, he stopped when his eye caught sight of a strange illustration of a shapeless black mass covered in hundred of eyes.

The sound of a scrapping chair jarred Jack from his attention to the book and he looked up hastily. Without a word, he slipped the notebook into his breast pocket for later inspection.

Not expecting visitors, Jack had left the bedroom door wide open. Yet he could hear nothing. Whoever below stairs knew he was here...and was coming for him. 

Sore and exhausted, Shock stepped out from the old well cage elevator, grateful to be back above ground again. Her two companions, who were every bit weary as she was, did not joke with each other as they usually did.

"Man, I never thought we'd get a break," Lock whined as they took the backstreets. "Oogie's working us like dogs. I like pranks, but this is ridiculous!"

"Well on the bright side, he gave us lots of sweets," Barrel grinned shaking his bulky sack happily. 

Lock and Shock exchanged exasperated looks, knowing their youngest cohort was so easily satisfied. The truth was, despite their obsession with candy, even the most mischievous trick-or-treaters had their craving for homemade pumpkin pie and baked spiders. No peanut brittle could ever replace the crunch in crispy bat wings.

Thinking these thoughts their steps became livelier as their mouths watered at the images in their mind. So fast they moved they turned the corner just as Finkelsten whizzed by in his chair followed by a group of armored soldiers. Ignoring them, the party ploughed recklessly on. 

"That's weird," Shock said frowning. "What's Finkelstein up to?"

"Ah, who cares," Lock replied. "Come on, my gramps is probably worried about me. And I said I'd make dinner tonight."

But as they pulled out of the alley unto the main road, a scene of utmost chaos greeted them. An angry clamor rose to fever pitch as the surging crowd moved as one, a swarm of hungry mouths and reaching hands. Gathered about the statue of Jack Skellington that had been erected a year ago, they threw ropes up to those who stood on the pedestal. These said persons snatched the lines and began to tie it around the statue's limbs. 

"Down with the Pumpkin Tyrant! Down with the Pumpkin Tyrant!" The mob chanted, their fists pummeling the air. With a combined effort, they pulled the ropes taunt until the statue tore away from its base and toppled, shattering unto the cobblestone streets.

"Dang and I thought we're the only ones who hate Jack," Barrel stared. "Why the slum folk are above ground?"

The sound of broken glass was his response as a brawny corpse seized a cart and hurled it at a storefront window. A hearty cheer rose as his comrades pushed forward, some jumping over the debris and taking possession of the good on display.

"Look!" Lock pointed out as a scrawny witch was dragged bodily from the doorway. Her screams only served to embolden the surly mob.

Shock stared in horror. "That's Witch Aspen!" From her spot she could see the shopkeeper being hoisted, bound and gagged, unto a long wooden beam. Her screams muffled, the witch could only watch helplessly, her eyes danced wildly with fright. Next to her, her jeering escorts led her down the road in a mock entourage.

"Man, what do you think she did?" Lock asked. "She can't have pissed off this many people. I mean, she's a witch with a capital 'B' but MAN."

His companions could not answer him. There was no way to explain the madness that had possessed the people of Halloween Town.

But Shock, being the oldest and wisest of the three, had her suspicions that the whole affair involved them. "Guys, listen. Remember how that hag Mombi wanted us to use the Jitters to destroy the Pumpkin Patch and Oogie went along with her on it?" 

The two boys exchanged puzzled looks but she continued. "What if this whole mess is our fault? Didn't you see what they took? Food, that's what."

Barrel widened his eyes. "Ya mean, they're doing this because they're hungry?"

"But..but what about the emergency supply?" Lock added hastily, trying to shift the blame somehow. There's no way they brought on this type of trouble. It was suppose to be all fun and good. They couldn't be responsible for all this.

Shock struck him soundly behind the head with her broom. "There's nothing left, idiot. The Jitters made sure of that." But she shared the same sentiment. For the first time in her life, Shock never felt so ashamed as she did now. As much as she loved mischief, even this was too far.

"I'm going to have a talk with Oogie," she said grimly. "There's no way this is part of Oogie's plan. Surely he wants to rule Halloween Town, not destroy it."

On and on she ran, her heart pounding hard against her chest. All about her white-hot flames reached for her, threatening to engulf her in their hellish embrace. With every agonizing step she was losing herself further and further into the burning maze of the Hinterlands.

There was no escape. What little air left to her was gradually consumed by the ravenous fire. She was smothered, her life force ebbing away. And yet she continued to move, hemmed in by the smoke and ash. Only until she fell did she gave in, weary of making any other futile attempt. 

But as she lifted her head she noticed that she had sat in a clearing, amid a grove a tress that had strange doors upon them. 

'Why, they're the Holiday Doors' she realized, staring in amazement. Renewed in strength, she rose and wobbled unsteadily toward them, straining to catch sight of the Christmas Door. Seeing it, she reached out to grab its ornament handle when suddenly the tree burst into flames.

She could only watch in horror as it was consumed and turning about she could the other Holiday Doors were being devoured as well. Gagging, she backed away from the pillars of fire and fell heavily unto her haunches.

"Someone, please help me!" But there was no one to save her. Only a strange deep-throated laughter echoed through the branches, mocking her plight. Whether her vision blurred from tears or death was fast approaching, she could have sworn the great cloud of smoke looming above had eyes, thousands of them. Hypnotically, they gazed at her, blood-red with black slit-like pupils.

Helplessly, she watched as it descended upon her, taking her into its murky depths. And then she could feel no pain.

Gasping, Sally awoke with a start, panting frantically as if she could not get enough air. The images still burned in her mind, replaying the horrific episode vividly. Stumbling her way to the sink, she doused her face with the cold green water. Her tears mingled with the rushing spray.

'It felt so real.' She dabble her face on a towel. 'What could it mean?' 

As her mind came back into focus, she realized the implication of such dreams. It had happened three years before; visions of the future with their foreboding warning. She had seen the disaster that would have befallen Jack and his Christmas takeover. 

The clattering of footsteps shattered her musings as Igor barreled into her room, his face wrinkled with fear. "Trouble! Trouble comes! You hear it?"

Preoccupied with her own thoughts, Sally failed to take note of anything around her. But at Igor's beckoning, there was no mistaking it. The deep, long tolling of the bells resounded to every corner of town with its melancholy thunder.

There were only two reasons they would ring at this hour, one was that there was a town meeting. But looking out the window, Sally found to her horror the only other explanation. Illuminated by the moonlight and fast approaching toward the town was a swarm of epic proportions. Eyes widened, Sally watched as hell descended upon her home.

Cornered, Jack glance frantically about for another way out. Yet the windows were barred and the flue in the chimney was shut tight. There was only one way in, one way out, the doorway.

The stairwell creaked and three heavy built olive-green goblin warriors entered, brandishing their steely axes and maces.

One of them bore brightly colored war markings his thin face, indicating his high rank. Sniffing, he scowled and strode in cautiously. "He's somewhere here lads. He couldn't have gotten far."

He could not be any more correct. For from the ashes the Pumpkin King rose from the depths of the fireplace, hissing and snarling. Before they could react, a wave of green light lashed out, knocking one goblin with a force that sent the fiend crashing into a wooden cabinet.

Releasing their fury, the goblins let out their yelping battle cry and charged, weapons swinging menacingly. But Jack pressed his advantage. Seizing an armchair with his Soul Robber, he hurled it at his attackers, who fell at the impact.

Vaulting over a sofa, Jack sped from the room before the two could recover, only to find three more awaited him on the stairwell. They rushed at him, hoping to avenge their comrades. Just as they got within 6 feet of him, Jack's Soul Robber caught hold of a light fixture and he swung away from the fray, narrowly missing the edge of the unyielding sword. Stumbling, he dashed out the front door, his pursuers hot on his trail.

Houses and Christmas trees sped by as Jack sprinted across the hostile landscape. The bellowing of goblin hunting horns resounded in the frosty air, alerting the patrols of Jack's flight.

When one is being hunted, only instinct kept one alive. Jack could not recall how he made it to the Sugar Plum Mountains. But as reason came back to him, he saw his mistake. Backed to the wall, he could only wait till the horde pounced upon him with the ferocity of a pack of wolves. With no drop of mercy in their veins, they would not be satisfied until his bones were grounded to the dust.

But Jack Skellington was one to never back down, regardless of what odds were stacked against him. He scowled, his Soul Robber at the ready. If he was to go down, at least they'll be fewer goblins for his townsfolk to deal with. He regretted that he failed to warn them however. But most of all he regretted breaking the promise not so long ago.

"I'm sorry, Sally," he said softly. "You'll have to go to the ball without me. I only wish I could see how lovely you look in your gown."


End file.
